The line: "Go ahead, make my
day," from the 1983 movie Sudden
Impact is probably Clint Eastwood's
most famous line and perhaps joins "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn," as
one of the most familiar utterances in cinematic history.

But it might not his most
chilling. I think Clint delivered a much
icier and far more Bernie Goetz-like come on during the scene in 1971's Dirty Harry when his
character, Det. Harry Callahan cocks his colossal 44 mag. point blank at a chancy
thug's mug and asks: "Do you feel lucky,
punk?"

For many reasons -- some
related to recent events occurring in both Tampa, Florida, and Charlotte, North
Carolina -- there are a lot of Republicans right now who might answer that
question with a reverberating, "no."

That aside, in the wake of all
that could be absorbed nearly a month after taking in both Republican and
Democratic Parties' National Conventions in front of a television set, the question
remains: Since President Obama had to
show his birth certificate shouldn't his Republican challengers be required to
take random field polygraphs because of claims they've made during the
campaign?

Actually, the Tourette's-like compulsion
imbuing the falsehoods
about the Obama Administration that raged in Tampa -- a
welfare check in every pot; millions in Medicare budget cuts; a nation that's a
larger economic basket case than four years ago; and Tampa's marquee misnomer: "YOU
DIDN'T BUILD THAT!" -- scarcely reflect the extremes of the contrast
between the two conventions. Charlotte paid
reverence to substance, enthusiasm, and inclusion while Tampa seemed a dour,
off-putting charade; an infomercial peddling little more than the politics of dark
delusion. Such differences laid bare the
clear demarcation line between starlight and shadows.

Smelly
ghosts

In hindsight, Tampa seemed
engulfed by a certain kind of darkness that often surrounds closed-minded
people -- a darkness ironically deepened via the visitation upon "God's Party"
of Hurricane Isaac, an act of God that may be unfathomable to those God-fearing
Repubicans who feel they know all there is about the mysterious ways in which
The Lord works.

Yet, while Tampa was damper,
Charlotte -- also impacted by inclement weather -- was nonetheless vastly more kinetic;
awash in a giddy glow of positive energy generated by an enlightened gathering
of Americans who while infinitely more open-minded are far less extreme.

Unsurprisingly, the vision of
America projected from Tampa seemed both Rockwellian and Orwellian. It depicted a yearning for a nation that
pursues a narrowly diverse American Gothic -like
societal mode and a no-government ethos impacting virtually every aspect of
American life -- except the womb. That's
where Orwell kicks in. Many who blew into
Tampa are apparently fine with the idea of a woman's womb being subject to the
subversiveness of Big Brother "in order to protect the unborn."

But while Tampa gave the GOP
the widest possible venue from which to display its pro-life culture, it was in
reality haunted by the smelly ghosts of its own dead political past in the
forms of George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, and with a hurricane
looming, former FEMA Director Michael Brown.
Throw in the underlying
stench created by Missouri Rep. Todd Akin , and the end result was
the predictable display of illusion, distortions, and deception typical of GOP
activism.

In Tampa, the goal to deceive was
obvious; all in hopes of making the Party seem, "normal." As such, suppressed or sequestered from major
public view were many of the scariest of the GOP's bogey men and women. That meant suspected wiccans, creepy pizza
guys, birther dudes with "Trumped" up comb-overs and former vice-Presidential candidates
gone wild -- oops, I meant gone rogue -- were essentially persona non-grata.

In addition, attention seemed
directed away from a surprising
number of standard conservative causes. Matters
like national security; gun control; traditional marriage; eliminating Planned
Parenthood; and overblown "support our troops" staunchness by chicken-hawks -- Romney
included -- were kept thoroughly on the low. Even anti-immigration language -- and
thankfully, pink
prison-wear fetishist , Arizona Sheriff Joe Arpaio -- were nowhere
to be heard; at least during prime time.
In fact, in a truly ballsy como se
dice, "hypocrisy" en espanol? moment, the speech by Romney's son Craig -- whom
I understand hung out for a few months in Chile a while back -- was delivered
in; you guessed it, Spanish!

Indeed perhaps nowhere was a better
job of deception culled than in the area of "minority affairs" indicated by the
showy multitude of pseudo Latinos such as Marco Rubio and Craig
Romney , and neo-Negroes like Mia
Love and Artur Davis . Tampa's temporary diversity drive also
extended to the convention floor which -- on Day One at least -- included
auspiciously-placed contingents of rank and file conventioneers of color. From this
perspective, it proved a remarkable example of expedient human trafficking on
the part of the GOP; something likely
lifted from the Jerry Springer playbook
whereby you solicit the kind of live props needed to make a point and jet "em
in VIP style. Then, once the show's
over, they are herded out to the back parking lot onto a school bus pointed in
the precise direction of whatever barrio, province, hamlet, hinterland, or hood
from which they were recruited and sent home, possibly under police escort.

Anthony Barnes, of Boston, Massachusetts, is a free-lance writer who leans toward the progressive end of the political spectrum.
"When I was a young man, I wanted to change the world. I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to (more...)